


Placing Bets

by i_know_its_0ver



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/pseuds/i_know_its_0ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for a prompt: Raven knows her brother pretty well, and she´s sure that by the time he and Erik finally kiss he´ll lose a bit of control over his powers and project the scene to the whole mansion. Since they´ll know precisely when it will happen, the kids decide to make bets on how long it´ll take them. Cue them all trying to create or interrupt romantic moments between the two, each trying to make them kiss on the time the person bet on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Placing Bets

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at xmen_firstkink on lj.

It starts with an offhand comment.

“God, why don’t they just _do it_ already?” Alex mumbles under his breath. They’re all gathered in one of the mansion’s many overly-ornate sitting rooms, the youngsters listening to the radio and goofing off while Charles and Erik sit together on the sofa, deep in conversation.

“Do what?” Sean asks, setting his soda carelessly on the antique coffee table.

Alex looks up sharply, making a slicing motion at his neck, a warning for Sean to watch his loud mouth. He arches his eyebrows and points swiftly at Erik and Charles, sitting so close their knees touch, heads leaned in towards each other.

Raven follows his glance and rolls her eyes. “I know, they should just get it over with,” she says with calculated nonchalance, watching Hank’s reactions.

“Get _what_ over with?!” Sean demands, voice loud in the spacious, high-ceilinged room. Alex and Raven desperately shush him, but Erik and Charles never so much as look up, too absorbed in each other.

Raven gives Sean a withering look that clearly says he’s a child for not catching on to such things. She likes feeling mature and superior, and having knowledge to lord over Sean is a nice bonus.

“When they’re going to finally _kiss_ ,” she whispers, leaning in to the center of their little circle, like children swapping secrets on the playground. Alex snorts, shaking his head, and Sean looks dumbstruck for a moment.

“You mean—Charles? And Erik? With each other?”

Raven smacks him on the arm and Alex glares daggers at him for forgetting to keep his voice down. Sean doesn’t look chastened, instead his eyes are wide and thoughtful. He glances over at the two men like he’s seeing them for the first time.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, and Raven smirks in triumph.

“What do you think, Hank?” she asks, placing a unsubtle hand on his arm. He flushes at the attention—or maybe it’s the mention of kissing.

“Well, they exhibit all the classic signs of attraction,” he murmurs, casting his eyes about the group nervously. “They angle their bodies towards one another, touch more than is strictly necessary.” He gulps audibly as Raven moves her hand further up his arm. “Um, their pupils dilate, which is a physiological reaction to attraction. I would say the data is pretty clear.”

Alex lets out a sharp bark of laughter and Hank recoils, pulling free of Raven’s arm unintentionally. She pouts momentarily, but lets it go when her face lights up with an idea.

“We should make bets.” The boys gape at her like she’s morphed back into her blue form, but she charges on.

“Look, sometimes when Charles is really happy, or sad, or _drunk_ , his powers go a little, well, haywire. I think everyone in the neighborhood could probably tell if he got laid.”

Hank flushes bright red, but Alex and Sean both smirk.

“So, when he and Erik _finally_ make a move, I’m pretty sure we’re all gonna know about it, whether we want to or not.” She looks at each of them meaningfully, waiting for them to catch up.

Hank, of course, if the first to come to the logical conclusion.“If we make bets, we’ll be able to tell when the event occurs, and who the corresponding winner is.” Raven smiles at him and he quickly averts his eyes to the ornate pattern on the rug, though he’s grinning too, pleased to be the first to catch on.

“Alright, I see where you’re going,” Sean says, rubbing his chin pensively. “So what does the winner get?”

They all look at one another thoughtfully. None of them really has much to his or her name in terms of money or possessions. But they do have themselves, and their powers.

“The winner gets to commands the losers as he, or _she_ , wishes,” Raven suggests, looking from one to the other for their approval. It was a game she and Charles often played as children, ordering the other to read a story or prepare a snack as their forfeit.

They each shrug. No one has any better ideas, anyway.

“Alright, I’m in,” Sean declares, sitting back with a smug look like it had been his idea all along. “I bet one week.”

“Two days,” Alex says with a derisive huff that shows his opinion of Sean’s estimation.

“Nine days,” Raven says thoughtfully, glancing over at the two men in question. No one knows Charles like she does. She feels confident that he won’t move too quickly, but he’s not exactly the most patient man, either.

Everyone turns to Hank, who looks like he wants to melt into the carpet beneath him. “I, uh, don’t think it’s really _ethical_ to make wagers--”

“Just do it, geek,” Alex cuts him off, arms crossed over his chest in impatience. A flash of annoyance passes over Hank’s calm features, but Raven nods to him encouragingly and his shoulders slump in defeat.

“Given the strength and frequency of the behavior they have exhibited, as well as knowledge of their habits, I would say….twelve days and…two hours.”

The others giggle at the absurd specificity. It’s not like _he’s_ the telepath, but they’ve learned not to question Hank’s uncanny intelligence. Raven shrugs at the other two.

“Alright, the bet is set,” she says, holding out her hand to shake with each boy in turn.

They go back to playing cards and throwing crackers at one another, but with a closer eye trained on their elders, and an air of anticipation.

****

Two days come and go with no sign of progress, and Alex pounds his fist into the sofa in frustrated defeat. Charles and Erik are playing chess, leaning so far over the board their foreheads practically touch as Charles moves his piece, laughing softly at something Erik says.

“How is this possible?” Alex grouses, waving at them emphatically. Raven just smiles and looks very smug indeed, shrugging a shoulder.

“Maybe they need a little help moving things along,” she says, arching one eyebrow with a devious smirk.

“Hey, that’s not allowed—is it?” Sean asks, looking back and forth between them uncertainly.

“Well, we never said it wasn’t,” Raven replies, her face a mask of innocence. Alex groans and rolls his eyes, annoyed at not having thought of it himself, or at being bested by Raven.

She exchanges a challenging look with Sean, as if daring him to give it his best shot, before turning and practically skipping off to her room.

“Women can be scary,” Sean says with a shudder, and Alex nods, noting her obvious glee as she retreats. Maybe this was a bad idea, he thinks. Erik and Charles don’t stand a chance.

****

Sean’s estimate is the next to come up for expiration, so he takes Raven’s advice and attempts a bit of _intervention_ to push things along in his favor.

Early in the morning on the seventh day he waits in the hallway, quiet as he can, peeking around the corner that leads to Raven, Charles, and Erik’s rooms, at the end of the hallway. He watches Erik go into the bathroom and hears the spray of the shower start up. Perfect. Now he just has to time this exactly right…

Sean poises himself at Charles’s closed door. He can hear movement within, so he knows Charles is awake. Sean just has to hope he doesn’t come out too soon.

The water in the shower turns off a few minutes later and Sean prepares himself, feeling giddy like a child about to do something willfully naughty.

He knocks on the bathroom door. “What?” Erik calls from within, his sharp tone muffled somewhat by the thick wood. Sean cringes. He may get himself killed for this. He hopes it’s worth it.

He doesn’t reply, but knocks again, before swiftly moving across the hall and knocking on Charles’s door. “Coming,” Charles calls, and Sean hears his footsteps approaching.

Charles’s door opens at the same time as the bathroom door, and Sean quickly ducks out of the way, crouching behind a small sidetable. It’s a poor cover, but once Erik and Charles notice each other they seem to forget about anyone else.

“Oh, Erik, good morning,” Charles says, and Sean watches his slight flush with satisfaction. Erik is wrapped in only a towel, just as Sean had hoped, tucked in loosely at his waist. Sean can’t quite see Erik’s expression from this angle, but he stands up straighter when he sees Charles.

Sean sucks in a breath and releases it along with a quick prayer that this won’t be his last act. The waves are softer and quieter than the ones he uses to fly, barely visible in the early morning light of the hallway.

His aim is perfect; the blast of air rustles past Erik’s legs, the force knocking the towel loose. It hits the floor with a soft thud before Erik can even grasp at it.

Sean has to cover his mouth with both hands to stop from giggling at the look on Charles’s face. He looks a bit like he’s just heard a dirty joke in front of his mother, or like it’s Christmas morning, and he can’t decide which.

Erik looks down, surprised but unfazed. He leans down to pick up the towel and Sean hears a soft gasp from Charles. Suddenly the scene feels a little too personal, and he wishes he could escape without getting caught and tortured to death slowly.

Erik wraps the towel back around his waist, holding it with one hand while running the other through his still damp hair. “Did you need something?” he asks, and Sean thinks Charles’s eyes might pop out of his head. He doesn’t need to be a telepath to know when someone’s thoughts are headed in a southerly direction.

“Um, no, sorry,” Charles says, his voice deceptively even.

“Then I’ll just--” Erik points back towards the bathroom, and Charles nods, a little too quickly.

“Of course, of course. I’ll see you down at breakfast,” he says, covering his awkwardness with a casual wave of his hand.

Erik’s eyes linger for a moment, but he turns back into the backroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

Charles lets out a deep sigh and a string of curses so inventive even Sean is impressed. With a last look at the bathroom door Charles turns towards the stairs, hands in his pockets and whistling with an air of forced casualness.

Sean collapses back against the wall, relieved that it’s over with. The mission wasn’t successful, but he would definitely not be trying again, stupid bets be damned.

****

Raven laughs to the point of tears when she hears about his botched attempt, holding her stomach as she doubles over, trying to catch her breath. Day seven passes without any explosive mental disturbances, and Sean is forced to grudgingly bow out of the competition.

Raven is pleased, but it’s time for her to get down to business. She has two days to bring them together and win the bet. Maybe she should feel a little guilty about manipulating her brother, but it’s for his own good, she tells herself. It’s for everyone’s good, really, that they deal with the palpable tension and clear the air. They’ll all focus better and breathe easier when they don’t have to tiptoe around the two of them and their ridiculous puppy love glances.

She knows her brother’s habits, and that makes it easier to put her plan into action. Charles, still the British gentleman at heart despite his time in America, always has an evening cup of tea in his study after dinner, before he joins the others. With all the thoughts constantly swirling through his head—his own and those of others—he needs the short time alone to sort through them and calm his mind’s constant activity.

Erik usually spends this time in the fading sunlight of the back garden, getting in a little extra practice before the light fails completely.

It’s almost too easy for her to take on her brother’s form, as familiar to her as her own false one. She steps out of the open door, the crunch of gravel announcing her presence.

“Ah, Charles,” Erik says, turning away from the pipe he had been weaving into intricate knots. His pleasure at the unexpected visit is evident in his voice, and the way his eyes soften. Raven suddenly feels a hint of guilt at manipulating him like this; he trusts Charles so implicitly, it’s evident in the openness of his features, a look she has never seen him direct towards anyone else.

She almost falters, but reminds herself that this is for his good, as well as Charles’s.

“Erik,” she says, her voice a perfect imitation. “I wanted to discuss something with you.” She lays a hand on his arm, no more than she’s seen Charles do a dozen times, but she tries to suffuse it with greater meaning, to make the touch soft and lingering.

“Of course,” Erik replies, letting himself lean in closer.

“It’s something…private,” Raven says, dropping her voice to what she hopes is a seductive whisper. “Could we discuss it inside, in my study, perhaps?” She lets her hand trail over Erik’s arm slowly, no longer a casual touch, but one laden with meaning.

“Certainly, Raven,” Erik replies, and she smiles in satisfaction before his words filter through. The game is up, before it even really began. Her shoulders stiffen as she slides back into her usual form, biting her bottom lip contritely. Erik sighs and shakes his head at her, no anger evident, instead looking at her like a silly child who has gotten into trouble through its own ignorance.

“How could you tell?” she asks, feeling pouty and petulant. He gives her a small smile that may be pity, may be amusement.

“You may be able to take on Charles’s form, but you don’t have his powers. Around Charles I can always feel his mind, like a soft presence in the back of my mind.” Raven nods, because she knows the feeling too. It’s as familiar and unremarkable as breathing, after all these years. She didn’t realize everyone else felt it as well. Or perhaps it’s was just Erik.

“There are better uses for your unique powers, you know,” Erik says, regarding her like a younger sibling, the way Charles does. It annoys her to be treated like a child, and she shrugs her shoulders diffidently, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What did you hope to achieve?” He asks, taking her shoulder gently and steering her back towards the house. The sun is dropping the last few inches below the horizon behind them, turning the evening air chilly.

“Nothing, just a silly prank,” she says, too embarrassed by her spectacular failure to dare admit to the truth. Playing a harmless game is one thing, but Erik might not be so forgiving if he suspected her of interfering in his personal affairs.

“You children should find better ways to occupy your time,” he says offhandedly as they enter the kitchen, like he’s already bored with this conversation and the events that spawned it. Charles is placing his empty tea cup in the sink, and Erik’s attention is immediately glued to him, drawn inexorably like the magnetic fields he so easily manipulates.

“Ah, Raven, Erik, getting some air?” Charles asks, but he barely even looks at Raven, his eyes pouring over Erik face, and coming to rest on the hand still resting on Raven’s shoulder.

Erik pulls away quickly, moving to join Charles. “Ready for our rematch?” he asks, the softness Raven had witnessed returning to his eyes.

“You feel like losing again?” Charles taunts lightly, the soft smile he throws to Erik almost blinding in its simple happiness.

Raven feels out of place, watching them together. It makes her long for something she’s always wanted, but never found. Charles never looked at her like that, not once, even in her disguised form.

She slips out of the kitchen and neither of them even notice, they’re so absorbed in each other.

Day seven passes and nothing changes. When the boys ask, Raven tells them she failed and leaves it at that, growing irritable when they press her for details.

****

They mostly forget about the bet over the next few days, since everyone has been eliminated but Hank, who never cared much to begin with. Alex playfully asks what genius scheme he has up his sleeve, but Hank steadfastly refuses to participate in any kind of intrusion.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to do a thing.

On the twelfth night the group is in the billiard room. Alex, Hank, and Raven play pool while Sean throws darts, missing the board more often than not. Hank tries to explain the geometric principles in play on the table, but Alex ignores him, cracking the balls together with more force than necessary to drown him out.

Sean is in the middle of telling a raunchy joke when they all feel it. It’s like a blast of bright light that makes them all stop in their tracks, as if the moment has been frozen in time. Their minds are all flooded with a mixed feeling of relief and happiness and an odd tinge of grief that catches them by surprise. Raven gasps as the feeling fades, like a receding tide.

The others share startled looks. They’ve never felt the mental connection like Raven has, all those years ago. But that was different, Charles consciously entering her mind to communicate. This is raw emotion, overwhelming in its intensity.

Hank is the first to recover, looking down at the watch on his shaking wrist. “Well, I was off by about an hour,” he says, his voice unsteady. The others look at him with wide, incredulous eyes, taking a moment to process his meaning.

“How did you--” Sean demands, but can’t find the words to finish the thought.

“Is this part of your power or something? Predicting the future?” Alex demands, “because that’s cheating!”

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Hank says, waving his hands before his defensively.

“So how?” Raven asks, both astonished and intrigued.

“Simple logic, using what I know about both of the subjects,” Hank says with a shrug, like that explains everything. When the others continue to stare he’s compelled to continue, his eyes glued to the felt tabletop. “Today is Mr. Lensherr’s birthday,” he murmurs, adding “I saw it in his CIA file,” when Raven gasps.

“And how did you know that they would…” Alex trails off, looking chastened.

“I didn’t, it was an educated guess. Such an event seemed like a likely emotional impetus, to push the subjects towards a dramatic reaction.” He fidgets uncomfortably under the continued stares. “And, of course, I made sure Mr. Xavier was aware of this fact,” he adds, his voice so small it’s almost inaudible.

The others gape at him like they’ve never really seen him before this moment. Hank is blushing furiously, hands fidgeting with a cube of cue chalk, turning his fingertips blue.

Suddenly Alex bursts into laughter, shattering the stunned silence. Sean quickly joins in, with heaving guffaws that leave his face as red as his hair. Raven can’t help but join in, though her laughter feels slightly manic.

“I have to hand it to you, geek,” Alex says, slapping Hank of the shoulder playfully, “that was well played. Who would have guessed.” Hanks looks like he isn’t sure what to do with this backhanded compliment, but he smiles when he catches Raven’s eye and finds her grinning.

“Well, I guess it’s finally over with,” Raven says. “Now we have to put up with them being even more hopelessly annoying, you know.” Sean and Alex both groan, like they hadn’t even considered this possibility.

“I don’t know if I can look at either of them ever again,” Sean whines, and Raven quickly morphs into Charles’s form, making the redhead nearly jump out of his skin and the others break into renewed peals of hysterical laughter.

They eventually go back to their game, the mood light now that the tension of the last few weeks has been broken. They may be joking about it, but Raven is genuinely relieved. This will be good for them, she thinks. They’ll be good for each other. Hopefully for a long time to come.

****

Hank collects his winnings several days later.

“Alright, stand over there,” he directs Alex, pointing to the far corner of his garage-turned-laboratory. Alex drags his heels with a look of suspicion, but does as he’s told. A bet is a bet, after all.

“Great, now Raven, in the center, please, and Sean, in the right corner. Perfect.” Hank watches them get into position, directing them a few steps in either direction until they are perfectly aligned.

“Alright, it’s imperative that you keep absolutely still,” he calls, his voice echoing in the large concrete space.

At that moment Erik and Charles stroll by the open door. Erik is laughing at something Charles has said, his head bent close to Charles’s ear, their shoulders bumping as the laughter shakes him gently.

“Ah, Hank, children,” Charles acknowledges, looking up with amusement in his eyes. He surveys the scene, the three young mutants dressed in blue and yellow uniforms, and Hank standing beside a table laden with various sinister looking instruments. “Doing some research?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Testing out the new suits, sir,” Hank replies, excitement evident in his voice. He holds up a flamethrower like it’s a new toy.

Charles looks like he’s about to say something, but Erik takes his arm, steering him away. “Well, have fun, kids,” he says, barely even glancing at the terrified teens.

“Be careful!” Charles calls back over his shoulder, but they’re already headed off down another path.

“This is all your fault,” Sean mumbles at their backs, but the two can’t hear him, too wrapped up in one another to notice anything or anyone else.


End file.
